The Winds of Khalakovo - Bradley P. Beaulieu [144]
His lungs burned. His legs and arms and chest screamed from the struggle to gain distance. But he kept going.
His breath finally gave, and he had no choice but to surface. More rigging blocked his path, but here it was sparse, and he managed to drag Jahalan through it.
He broke the surface, but not before taking in a lungful of salty water. He released long, wracking coughs. While supporting Jahalan’s head to his chest, he leaned back into the water and kicked away from the ship.
“Jahalan?”
The only reply was the high wind whipping the tips of the cold white waves against his face.
“Jahalan, can you hear me?”
He wasn’t breathing.
A goodly portion of a mast lay nearby. Nikandr reached it, and although it was cracking and brittle, it held well enough for him to lay Jahalan over it. He squeezed Jahalan’s chest and forced the water from his lungs while trying to prevent him from slipping back beneath the waves.
“Jahalan, wake up!”
When no more water came up, he slapped Jahalan’s back, slapped his cheeks, while continuing to call to him.
Suddenly Jahalan coughed and shook his head violently, then sucked in a rasping lungful of air.
Nikandr held him tight to the wood lest he take in more water. “Calm down,” Nikandr said, “you’re fine.”
“I am”—he coughed for a long minute—“anything but fine.”
Nikandr could have laughed. It felt good, even among all this madness, to have his friend with him, alive. He guided Jahalan toward shore. The majority of the ship still lay on the surface behind them, but it was breaking apart from the action of the waves and the brittle nature of the wood.
What in the name of the ancients were they going to do now? Were Ashan and Nasim—
Suddenly Jahalan was pulled beneath the water. When he resurfaced, he let out an excited shout, and Nikandr felt something cold slide along his left leg. Nikandr kicked violently, hoping to scare the serpent away, at least for a time.
“My leg!” Jahalan screamed.
“I know.” Nikandr pulled his kindjal again and watched the water closely. “Just keep moving.”
“I can’t.”
“Keep moving or these waters will see the death of us.”
Jahalan moaned and grit his teeth, but he kicked, and with Nikandr’s help, they made progress against the incessant waves.
The head of the serpent glided through the water toward them. He dove below and stabbed, but the serpent broke off and swam away.
When he came up, however, the image in his mind made his breath come doubly fast.
“What?” Jahalan’s eyes were wide and frightened.
“Nothing,” Nikandr lied. In that brief moment, he’d seen three other serpents gliding through the water, waiting for their chance to come for blood.
CHAPTER 44
“Just keep moving,” Nikandr said.
They swam, Nikandr spending more time under the water than above. Jahalan knew what was happening—it was impossible not to—but he did not understand the full extent of it. There were no less than eight of them, Nikandr realized after a short while.
The waters around them were for the time being blessedly free of the serpents. He found out why only a short while later. He heard a panicked shout. Using his legs to kick as he crested a wave, he saw nearly a dozen survivors swimming together. A straggler was yanked downward. He didn’t even have time to scream, but a moment later he resurfaced and his shrieks rent the air. He was tugged downward two more times, and he screamed for help the entire time. Two crewmen swam toward him, but before they could come close the man who’d been singled out by the serpents was dragged under. He was not seen again.
They moved a few hundred yards, the spray from the waves pelting their faces, when the bone-white serpents returned. Two of them shot in toward Jahalan. Nikandr dove beneath the surface and stabbed one of them, but the other slithered to one side and lunged for his arm. He tried to pull it away, but wasn’t fast enough. He managed to avoid getting caught in the grips of the serpent’s jaws, but the small, sharp teeth grazed his forearm, leaving bloody